


Bad Behavior

by kaiface



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is attracted to Carlos' bad behavior, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:11:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiface/pseuds/kaiface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"someone needs to write a fic where Cecil gets all sexually flustered by Carlos' badboy behavior like eating toast, believing in mountains, and using pens"</p><p>I did the thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Behavior

**Author's Note:**

> Idea from [this](http://cultofthepigeon.tumblr.com/post/57139391089) Tumblr post by user cultofthepigeon.
> 
> Also I'm bribing my live-in soulmate and resident Cecil for a shoulder rub, so there's that.
> 
> Enjoy...? I feel like this is so bad, I don't know what I'm doing with my life anymore, I apologize.

Before Night Vale, it was Carlos' morning routine to grab a cup of coffee, a piece of toast, and read a scientific publication of choice, in his slippers, preferably on a porch or deck, to feel the morning air. He would refill his cup of coffee approximately two point five times and get through about three scientific publications each morning before dressing and heading to the lab.

After Night Vale - or rather, during Night Vale, since he was still persistent in trying to work out just what made it the most scientifically baffling town in the nation – his morning routine was slightly changed. Coffee was still allowed, however toast was not due to the city-wide ban on wheat and wheat by-products. The scientific publications had to be swapped out for municipally approved books, none of which were in any way educational, and it was often hazardous to breathe the air in Night Vale, depending on the time of day.

As a man of science, Carlos wanted to consider himself highly adaptable, however some of the demands of Night Vale city counsel were downright ridiculous, along with their usual tune of being slightly strange or worrisome. After a few months of wheat-free breakfasts filled with mind-numbing literature (the only books available, after some time, were all the same printed copy of the biography of Helen Hunt), Carlos had had enough. He made a few calls to the scientific community outside of Night Vale and arranged for something of a care package to be delivered to him.

So it happened that one morning, when Carlos invited Cecil over for a cup of coffee over some rather interesting scientific breakthroughs. By the time the doorbell rang with the radio professional's arrival, Carlos was already full-swing into his morning ritual, a piece of toast in hand as he answered the door.

“Good morning, Cecil! I think you'll really like some of these new discoveries the scientific community has been reporting on recently, I know I found some of them particularly riveting-”

“Carlos,” the reporter's voice was a hushed whisper as he eyed the piece of toast in the scientist's hand. “Is that...wheat?”

“Uh, well, yeah, but I had it delivered, so it's not...dangerous,” the darker-haired man assured, still a bit unsure as to the state of wheat in Night Vale or why all of it had gone so strange those few weeks back. He was startled out of his thoughts suddenly as Cecil pushed him, gently, back into the house with a hand on his chest, glancing nervously over his shoulder until the door was shut.

“You can't let the Sheriff's Secret Police see you with wheat or wheat by-products, Carlos! You'll be arrested on the spot!”

“Right, right. I forgot that they take the wheat thing pretty seriously,” his attempts at calming the man seemed to work marginally, so Carlos went for a distraction instead. “Well, come on in! Coffee's getting cold, and I've got some really great things to show you!”

He swung his arm wide in a welcoming gesture, despite the fact that Cecil had sort of already shoved himself into the scientist's house. Carlos showed the radio host to his kitchen, where he had more pieces of toast on a plate, two cups of coffee, and several scientific journals laid out. Cecil took a seat, eying the toast continually as he sipped his proffered cup of coffee. Carlos took a long drink of his coffee before grabbing up one of the journals and pushing it across the tabletop towards Cecil.

“This one is a particularly interesting one on tectonic plate shifts and mountain development on the coast,” Carlos told him, and Cecil scoffed.

“Mountains,” the newscaster said, sniffing at the report in distaste. “Carlos, you know mountains aren't actually real.”

Carlos stared at the man for a long moment, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses before quietly taking the report back and digging into the pocket of his lab coat. His hand returned with a pen in it's grasp, and he began to circle and annotate certain parts of the report, even as Cecil set his coffee mug down with a quiet gasp.

“Carlos! Pens are not allowed in Night Vale!”

The scientist looked at Cecil patiently, like an adult preparing to explain something to a stubborn child. He speaks slowly and softly, “Yes, Cecil, but the scientific community tends to disregard reports made in number 2 pencil.”

He begins writing again, but the pen jolts sideways and off of the paper as Cecil stands, slamming his hands down on the surface of the table.

“Now look, Carlos, this rebellious behavior is just getting- Well, it's-”

Carlos looked up at him, patient and expectant as Cecil cleared his throat, loosened his tie, and presumably tried to will away the flush that was coloring his cheeks. He adjusted his glasses again before pointing a shaking finger at Carlos. The scientist smiled sweetly and goaded, “What's the matter, Cecil?”

The radio seemed to struggle with his thoughts for a moment before hefting Carlos up by the collar of his lab coat and planting a firm kiss on the scientist's smiling mouth. After a moment, Cecil pulled away and brushed his hands down his front, straightening his vest and adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

“Now, I really must go prepare the news for the day. When you're finished with your,” he scoffed again, “'Mountains', why don't you stop by my office for lunch and we'll discuss your pen usage and possession of non-municipally approved reading material.”

As Cecil marched out of the scientist's house, Carlos sat back in his chair and smiled, making a few more marks on the open page of the journal before going to get dressed for what was probably going to be a very long day.


End file.
